


Wouldn't It Be Nice?

by RedheadedBlondeBitxh



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:22:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27181069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedheadedBlondeBitxh/pseuds/RedheadedBlondeBitxh
Summary: Something I wrote a while back for Tumblr.comUnlike the last 24 days, this is Hancock/F!Sole
Relationships: John Hancock/Female Sole Survivor
Comments: 5
Kudos: 23





	Wouldn't It Be Nice?

**Author's Note:**

> I have a friend coming over tonight so I probably won't finish the most recent chapter of AAO unless she falls asleep super early.
> 
> BUT. We are almost done with October! Jeez... 24 fics/chapters in 24 days is down right insane.... 7 left!

She had _told_ him to watch his step, told him to clear the damn hallway before running straight into the basement of Milton General Hospital where Sinjin and his crew were holding Kent hostage. The ambush was inevitable, given that the man had literally led them straight to his metaphorical front door.

But of course Hancock didn’t listen, and the stubborn idiot had gotten shot the second he’d rounded the corner. It was by luck alone that the round only grazed his shoulder, and she was silently fuming as she patched him up.

“Ah, shit.” He hissed immediately as she placed the vodka soaked rag over the laceration, flinching back at the sudden burn of alcohol over the exposed skin. “Hey, sunshine, ya know your bedside manner could use a bit of work.”

Of all the things she wanted to say, wanted to scream at him about how stupid and reckless and down right obstinate he was, none of them seemed like enough to fully articulate the swirl of emotions pouring through her mind. Because if she had been a few seconds latter, or if Sinjin had aimed just a few inches lower or to the right, all the medical supplies in the world couldn’t have helped him.

She shot him a quick look of warning before placing a clean wad of guaze of the wound.

“Aw c’mon babe, the silent treatment doesn’t suit ya.” Hancock pressed, nudging her with his elbow.

“Yeah? Well a fucking bullet wound doesn’t suit _you_ , John.” She bit, the words coming out harsher and colder than she intended as she quickly wrapped the bandage around his arm.

“Heh, at least that fucker Sinjin missed this beautiful mug.” He teased, his flippancy at the injury only grating on her nerves further.

She let out a slow breath, half mumbling to herself. “Barely.”

“Don’t ya go worryin’ your pretty little head about me. It’ll take a lot more than a bit of lead to take me out.”

She let out a frustrated scoff, looking up the meet his eyes. “You don’t know that.”

“You’re not gettin’ rid of me _that_ easy.”

The irony of the statement would have bad her laugh, had her chest not become suddenly over encumbered by the pressing weight of _worry_ about the very _notion_ of losing him. Because she’d been through this before. She knew exactly how instantaneously she could lose everything that she held dear. How short the moments that could ruin her life and shatter her heart would feel. And it was terrifying.

She knew she must have been staring at him for far too long, knew that with each passing second her mask of anger was slipping away to reveal the bottomless expanse of her utter, unbridled _fear_ for his well being. 

Hancock’s eyes softened, his confident, smug smirk settling into something almost intimate as he scanned her face, carefully reaching forward to caress the side of her cheek. She felt her breath catch in her throat, because this isn’t what they _did_ , the gentle affection. Everything about their relationship was fast and desperate, not patient or god-forbid, _tender_.

Hell, she had been damn near running from her own surge of affection toward him, the one thing she didn’t want to admit, even to herself when it came to where they were headed. The thought was too much and not enough and not enough, because she couldn’t survive loosing anyone else.

But against every warning bell ringing in the back of her mind about how fucking vulnerable she was, how hour soul was bare and exposed to him in that moment as she softly pressed her lips against his, she couldn’t bring herself to pull away.

Hancock gently brought his hand to the back of her head, kissing her so breathtakingly slow that she half thought she might forget how to breathe.

This isn’t what they did.

But, by God how she never wanted to stop.


End file.
